


Shouldn't Ever Have to Be This Hard

by Stone_Princess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Cliche, Glory Hole, M/M, Season/Series 01, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stone_Princess/pseuds/Stone_Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam discovers something about Dean, and something about himself, that maybe he didn't want to know.  Cliché fic, brothers in a hotel bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shouldn't Ever Have to Be This Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ in Nov 2005  
> Thanks to my betas: the very beautiful and amazing, albeit sleepless, Justabi and the incomparable Violetsmiles without whom this fic may never have gotten to the sex. And Joyfulgirl41, because without her help I would probably never write at all. Remaining errors are results of my own laziness.

* * *

  
Sam jerked awake, his heart hammering with panic, but the dream was already gone and he didn't try to chase after it. He had enough nightmares; he didn't need to hunt lost ones.

The car wasn't moving and Dean was gone. Sam looked out into the darkness. Nothing but parking lot with only one other car, a few trees and a dim light about 50 feet away. It took him a second to be sure this wasn't part of some dream.

Sam got out of the car and headed for the light, taking the knife from under the passenger seat just in case. The outside air was cool, much cooler than in the car, so Sam knew that they hadn't been stopped long; Dean couldn't have gone far.

All he found was a generic rest area bathroom and some overflowing trashcans. He headed into the men's side, hoping to find Dean and wash away the last traces of sleep with cold water. There was a man... _kneeling?_ in the first stall and in the split second before he realized what he was seeing, Sam's first instinct was to rush over to help him up. But the man didn't need help. He was on his knees on a dirty concrete bathroom floor sucking dick through a hole in the stall wall. Sam knew it was real, because even his dreams weren't this fucked up. He stepped quietly back, to use the women's room perhaps or possibly a tree, and keep looking for Dean, but as he turned something caught his eye. Sam looked back. He knew the shoes visible in the other stall, knew the hand that curled over the top of the partition.

"Oh, fuck yes, god." Dean's voice.

Sam froze. He wanted to run, but to what? Where?

The man pulled back and Sam watched what he just realized was his brother's spent cock disappearing back through the hole. The man slid something—wadded bills?—under the stall and stood up. When Sam saw the familiar hand reach for them, he turned and ran back towards the car. He slammed the car door before he realized he should be quiet. He leaned back, closing his eyes, trying to slow his breathing, willing sleep to come suddenly, wishing to be anywhere but here.

Sam jumped when Dean slammed the driver's side door closed, panic racing through him.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Dean's face wasn't visible in the dim light; his tone was flat. Sam's heart raced. Had Dean seen him running back to the car?

"Must have been a nightmare," Sam choked out.

Dean just nodded and started the car.

"We're only about 25 minutes out of Martinsdale," Dean said as he pulled the car back on to the highway. "We'll get a room there."

Sam just nodded, not even sure if Dean was looking at him. He closed his eyes and pretended to doze for the long twenty minutes that passed before they pulled up to a small motel.

Once inside Dean went straight to bed. It was late and it had been days since either of them had had a chance to sleep for more than a few hours. Sam lay awake, like he had every night for so many months now. As always his brain wouldn't shut down and let him sleep, but this time all the movies playing behind his eyes were different, a new kind of horror. The image of Dean's hand curled over the top of that dirty bathroom stall, his ring glinting in the grimy light. Sam tried to think of anything else, Dad being in trouble, seeing Jessica on the ceiling, their mom, Missouri Mosley, but that image burned everything else away. Worse yet, Sam was getting a very insistent erection.

Sam kept seeing that man, kneeling in the rest stop. When he tried to force it away, he just moved in closer until he _was_ the man kneeling. A wall between him and Dean, so obvious. Sam imagined Dean crying out his name through the wall as he licked up the length of the hard cock framed by the hole in front of him. Sam reached down and squeezed his own cock, then yanked his hand back as if he'd been burned.

He couldn't do this. It was line they couldn't, shouldn't, cross and even thinking about it was going too far. _But it's normal for a guy your age to get an erection thinking about sex, any sex,_ he told himself, reaching for his cock again. He'd been without release for weeks. Since he could remember, both he and Dean had done whatever they needed to do in the shower, the only privacy they had in so many dank motel rooms. Lately they hadn't been in one place long enough even for that.

Sam jerked his cock slowly, trying not to move, not to breathe. Anything to keep Dean from waking up. Dean. Sam thought of him, mere feet away, half naked in bed. He closed his eyes and in his mind the wall between them disappeared and Sam was kneeling as Dean looked down at him, eyes full of heated desire.

The picture came into sharp focus from an odd distance, like Sam was watching a movie of himself blowing his brother. He tried again to slow his breathing, to listen for bedsprings squeaking, but everything else faded as this imaginary Dean let his head fall back, eyes closed, hand twisting in Sam's hair as Sam sucked him off.

Sam squeezed his dick and stroked harder, pushing himself fast to the edge, willing it to be over. He came sharp and swift. He wiped his hand on the sheets as far away as he could reach and lay there, wishing for sleep empty of dreams.

"Sam?"

Sam froze, tried to keep his breathing regular, to let Dean think he was asleep.

"Sam, come on, I know you're awake." Dean shuffled and there was a _click_ and suddenly Sam was blinking against the glare, watching Dean pull his hand back from the circle of light into shadow. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers, the light just tracing his outline in the dark room. Sam glanced over the bulge of Dean's cock and then closed his eyes guiltily, desperate to be anywhere but here. Why couldn't he have some disorder that made him fall asleep in times of stress?

The room was quiet and still. Sam could hear the bathroom faucet drip, faint snoring from the other side of the thin wall, Dean's breathing. Sam wanted to roll over, ignore Dean, but he couldn't. He opened his eyes to find Dean still on the edge of the bed, watching him intently.

Dean sighed.

"Do you wanna talk about it, instead of hiding like a little kid?"

"About what?" Sam asked, trying to sound groggy, freshly woken.

"I know you saw me tonight. At the rest stop."

Sam's whole body tensed. This was conversation was not one he wanted to have. Not now. Not ever.

"That guy was gross! He was old. And he…" The words spilled out of Sam's mouth before he knew what he was saying, he stopped them as quickly as he could. It was definitely not what he intended to say.

Dean shrugged, obviously tired. He didn't meet Sam's eyes when he spoke. "I didn't even see him. What difference does it make?"

"How could you do that with a stranger?" Sam yelled, sitting up. He was losing control. He could feel anger bubbling in him, sending his pulse up, couldn't help it. And he didn't want to look too closely at why he was so suddenly so mad, but maybe it was already too late for that.

"Who else do I have? Anyone but a stranger just complicates things and I think things are complicated enough." Sam flinched a little, unsure exactly what Dean was saying.

"It was a complete stranger, Dean. It could have been anyone. It's reckless, stupid. I thought you knew better than that. Dad taught us better than that."

"It's a glory hole, Sammy. The glory of it is you don't ever have to see who is on the other side."

"What if it was a glory hole to another dimension!?! What then?"

"A _glory-wormhole_. Seriously? That's your objection?" Dean shook his head, as if Sam had finally rounded the bend to crazy town. "Besides, you think I don't check that shit first?" he finished, looking seriously at Sam.

"Oh, you check the hole for supernatural phenomena, but you never look to see who is on the other side? How do you know it's not some succubus on the other side?"

"It's a hole in a bathroom stall, in a mostly deserted rest stop, Sam. Not everything is haunted."

Sam knew he was pushing the conversation the wrong way, trying to keep Dean talking, keep Dean from completely closing off. It wasn't about stranger-sex or any of the other fucked up shit Dean had clearly been doing, but Sam didn't know how to ask, didn't know start the conversation.

"What do mean things are complicated enough?" Sam asked, trying force back his anger and be reasonable.

"What?"

"You said anything but strangers complicates things."

"Sam." Dean sighed and sat on the bed. "It's the middle of the night, why are we talking about this now?"

"It just happened, that's why we're talking about it."

"It happened hours ago, tomorrow it will still have happened then, after I've slept."

"Hey, you started this conversation." Sam paused, waiting for Dean's response. When none was forthcoming, he shook his head. "Why do you always try to avoid me? Avoid talking about anything?"

Dean looked surprised and Sam was satisfied to get some response. Though it didn't come immediately. There was a long silence between them before Dean finally spoke.

"You know, I'm not sure we're on the same page here. What are you really upset about? That I caught you jacking off? That I let some guy blow me?"

"Blow you for money," Sam interrupted.

"Right. Is that why you're upset? You think I'm a whore? Why don't you tell me what's going on with you?" Dean's glare was intense and Sam would have backed down from it, but he couldn't. Something _was_ going on with him and it had to come out sooner or later.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He flopped back onto the limp motel pillow.

"I don't know," he said, finally.

"Don't know what?"

"What's wrong with me."

"Sammy, I—"

"No," Sam cut him off. "Let me talk. Everything is so fucked up now. It's not just Dad, or what happened to Jessica. It's just everything. I’m so fucking mad at you." Sam ground the last words out, almost choked on them. They hurt coming out, like they'd been wrenched from someplace deep.

Dean was quiet. Sam turned to look as Dean got up and crossed the short distance between them. He sat on the edge of Sam's bed. Sam rolled on to his back and stared at the ceiling. Time passed, Sam didn't know how much and wondered if he'd lost perspective on everything.

"I'm so mad at you," Sam repeated, wanting something, anything to happen.

"I know," Dean said softly. "I just don't know why."

"It's just," Sam started, his thoughts forming as he spoke the words, “you dragged me back here, to this—" he waved his hand between them, “this life, and now you're, you just...” Sam faltered. "You don't even share anything with me. It's like you're living this whole life and I'm following along and I don't even know why."

"Sam. Sammy." Dean said as he reached over then stopped, like he wasn't sure what to do.

"Can we just talk about it tomorrow? I'm tired." Sam said. He was tired. Too much worry, anger and everything else. He just couldn't do this now.

Dean's arm hung in the air between for a second before he pulled it back. "Yeah." He stood up.

"No." Sam surprised himself, saying, "Can you sleep here?" He rolled over, unable to look at Dean's face and see rejection there.

Dean didn't answer, just crawled in next to Sam. Sam heard the light click off and lay still as Dean settled in next to him.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered.

Sam didn't answer, just rolled over to face Dean. His mind was full of so many contradictory things, he wasn't sure if he could make any words come out at all. Nothing was easy anymore, not even comfort. He shoved Dean gently, forcing him to roll over on to his side. Sam molded his body to Dean's, chest to back and let his arm rest down the length of Dean's thigh. Dean reached up and pulled Sam's arm down around his waist holding it close.

And abruptly Sam was filled with rage again.

Everything was so easy for Dean and Sam wanted to shake him up, give him all the things that kept Sam awake at night. Sam was filled with a longing so tied up rage that it spun out of control, dragging his secrets out with it. Sam's hand didn't feel like his own, like an outside force controlled it as he jammed it roughly down Dean's boxers. He grabbed Dean's cock and squeezed before forcefully jerking it.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean choked out even as he hardened in Sam's grip.

Sam didn't respond, just stroked harder and faster. Dean's breathing sped up and he tried to turn, to face Sam, but Sam made his body stone, keeping Dean turned away from him. He lowered his head, resting his forehead on Dean's neck, just listening as Dean whimpered and cried out. Feeling it with his whole body as Dean's hips thrust to the rhythm Sam set.

Sam's hand didn't stop moving, even as warm come spilled over his hand. Dean whimpered again and put his hand over Sam's, halting him.

They lay in silence, Dean's hand cupping Sam's until Sam pulled his hand back and wiped it on the bedspread. He rolled onto his back and thought of the pattern of the ceiling tiles, even though he couldn't see them in the dark. Confusion wrapped around everything in his mind. He felt empty, like his rage had spent itself with Dean.

Dean rolled over, curling his body against Sam's, pushing his face against Sam's neck. Sam could feel Dean's breath, still uneven, feel his heart pounding where Dean's chest met Sam's shoulder. Dean traced his fingers up Sam's thigh and let his hand rest on Sam's hipbone. It felt like a question.

"No," Sam said, so quietly it might have been just a breath.

Dean kissed Sam's neck and pushed back the covers, moving back with them and straddling Sam's legs. He leaned down, kissing over Sam's stomach and Sam shivered at the touch, so delicate and intimate. He wanted to stop Dean, tell him it was too much, tell him he was sorry he started this, tell him it wasn't right.

But he didn't.

Sam bit back a gasp as Dean grasped the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down. Lifting his hips to facilitate, Sam felt the inevitability of if all. There wasn't anything he needed more than a real connection to Dean.

Dean's hands pinned Sam's hips and Sam felt his cock fill as Dean's mouth worked, licking and biting over Sam's stomach, moving lower. Sam's hips bucked up as Dean's chin brushed over the head of his cock.

"Tell me you want it, Sam. I have to hear it." Sam could feel Dean's breath, the vibration of his words on his dick.

"Oh god, Dean, please."

"Please what?"

"Suck me." He was begging, but it didn't matter, Sam wanted it that much. And when Dean's hot mouth closed over the head of his cock Sam cried out involuntarily, "Oh, fuck, please, Dean. _Dean,_ " as Dean slid down, engulfing Sam in wet heat, releasing his grip on Sam's hip to wrap his hand around the base of Sam's cock.

Everything in the world was gliding, smooth and hot. Sam reached down and pushed his hand into Dean's hair. It was wrong, and Sam couldn't deny that, but his brother's mouth on his cock still felt like belonging and love. It sealed the link between them. Sam bucked up hard. His vision burned sharp blue as electricity spiraled down his spine through his belly to his cock. It was too soon, too much but Sam couldn't stop, didn't want to stop.

"Dean, I'm gonna—" Sam tugged Dean's hair to pull him back, but Dean just squeezed Sam's cock and swallowed the length of him again as Sam came hard, the jagged bite of coming again so soon quickly buried in the warmth that seemed to pulse through him.

Dean pulled off and laid his head on Sam's hip as Sam absently stroked his hair until Dean crawled back on the bed and lay, once again, on his side facing Sam. Sam rolled over and caught Dean's mouth with his, kissing him deeply, the satisfaction of the connection beat down his earlier fury. Dean's touch, his response calmed Sam like reparation paid on long over due debts.

Whatever they did, did it really matter? Love wasn't a sin; not when it was all they had. Nothing mattered anymore. Sam pulled Dean closer to him and breathed, really breathed, for the first time all night. He felt sleep steal over him and for once it promised rest instead of terror.

~finis~


End file.
